


Eight

by reeyachan



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Suicide Attempt, mention of bullets, mention of gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeyachan/pseuds/reeyachan
Summary: Eight—the number of times he saw him at that exact same spot, the number of times he had helplessly sprinted to the rooftop to clear his head and gasp for air. But not once did they speak. Not once did their eyes meet. Was Gon imagining things? Did he finally fall into the rabbit hole of pure murk, and now dreaming of what could have been?
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Eight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baeruto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baeruto/gifts).



> This is for @attack-on-bocchan at Tumblr (Baeruto here at AO3). I'm glad you liked it. :')  
> For all the weary hearts. Ily. Shine bright and never disappear.

He always found him at the rooftop after school.

The boy with an iridescent cloud as hair and insipid sapphires as eyes, gazing into the nearing sunset as his feet swayed midair, arms curled to the metal railing of the ledge where he had positioned himself to park. His usual spot. The spot where Gon had never seen anyone come near to, let alone loiter in, even at peak hours when it was empty.

_Empty._

He wondered why, out of all the times he had visited that part of the building, he would only see the boy when his chest felt the most hollow, when his skull felt the most chaotic, when his limbs felt the most frail, and when his spirit felt the most insecure.

He wondered how, even as he looked the other way, or tiptoed to the other side, even as words dissolved in his throat, the constant need to end his turmoil by floating with the wind dissipates at the sight of him—serene, peaceful _him_ , with airstream reeling between the strands of his hair and puffing it in all the right places. It felt like warm sand under Gon’s bare feet. It felt like home, comfortable, accepting of his weak self.

It would feel okay to fail.

It would feel right to cry.

_Weak._

Why did he have to be one? Was he born with a feeble mind?

It wasn’t like this when he was younger. He wasn’t like this six months ago before he moved from Whale Island to Padokea to live with his dad. He was always precise. He always learned how to deliver, enthused about things he had no prior knowledge of, always moved by how bugs grow and how trees reproduce, always embarked on a commission with bloomed flesh and a sparkly-white beam. Wonder and imagination found a home above his head, lightbulb never running out of energy, bright and buoyant, excited and optimistic. Aunt Mito and Grandma Abe always smiled in his presence. Birds happily sung on his windowsill at dawn. Plants thrived with his touch.

It was magic—his gift, his talent. Gon always thought that he was born to discover the world and everything that lived in it. He found a reason to step forward, to understand and connect with nature, embodying the bliss it was feeding him with, and determined to share the same level of happiness he always felt, delighted to be able to shed his rays after a snowstorm. Happy. In awe. Skipping heartbeats.

_Purpose._

How could he now reduce himself to a speck of dust? How could he not remember the last time someone greeted him a good morning in the hallways? How could he not paint his classmates’ canvasses the colors of the rainbow with his sunlit eyes? How could these people be so distant and opaque? How could he not feel like he didn’t belong in his father’s house? His bones had felt hollow; his drive entropic.

He wasn't like this.

He never had this unending storm cloud hanging heavily from his shoulders.

He had never been in this limitless void inside his head.

_Empty._

_Weak._

_Does anybody want him around? Does anybody even want to be his friend._

“Are you gonna jump?”

_Friend._

Gon realized that he was spiraling into the deleterious cave that had inevitably formed in his core, for his head spun back into that afternoon reality when he heard an unfamiliar voice. _Jump?_ He caught his breath and clutched the buttons of his uniform over his quavering chest. His heart did, he figured, up and down the trampoline until his glimmering russets met the sea.

It stopped.

“Why are you always crying?” the boy mumbled curiously, brows meeting at the bridge of his nose as he shifted his weight on the ledge to face Gon.

Eight—the number of times he saw him at that exact same spot, the number of times he had helplessly sprinted to the rooftop to clear his head and gasp for air. But not once did they speak. Not once did their eyes meet. Was Gon imagining things? Did he finally fall into the rabbit hole of pure murk, and now dreaming of what could have been?

In response to the question, Gon touched his own cheeks. _Wet._ He blinked. _A sniffle._ Was he crying? He turned around and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, flustered beyond comparison, embarrassed to be revealing his inner flaw to a stranger. “Sorry,” he said as he tried to line up his thoughts, pulses hammering in his temples. He shouldn’t be crying. No, he shouldn’t allow himself to. His dad said so himself.

_Man up._

“What for?” The boy’s tone was casual and closer.

Gon reckoned he had walked towards him. Probably. He missed the scene, though, for he had to force composure onto himself before deciding to turn back around. He should appear presentable, at least, and offer an amicable greeting. That was the first time they would be introduced. That was the first time someone from school had approached him.

The first time someone initiated a conversation with him in that sad town.

_Is he even worth this boy’s time?_

“For bothering you, if I did,” Gon answered, gaze darting repeatedly from the floor to his face, bashfully, apologetically. He didn’t mean to disturb his silence. He didn’t mean to be a nuisance. He thought of retreating down the stairs to go home. Forcibly, he tugged the corners of his lips for a blank smile, a smile that disappeared in a millisecond. “Sorry, I—”

“I’ve been seeing you here a lot,” the boy interjected, shrugging, ushering. “Always crying, looking like you’re gonna jump. Just now, you almost did.”

_Embarrassing._

“Why?”

Gon hesitated, ashamed. He didn’t even know what it was that he was doing. He didn’t even think of what he was going to do before he attempted to do it. All he knew was that he wanted to fly away—far, far away from that place. “I thought that it was worth it… to let myself just disappear.”

A pause.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes finally rested on his, reading it, searching for signs of pretense. It must be the way he blinked, or the way his pupils moved as the seconds ticked longer, because he couldn’t find any; he couldn’t determine if he was kidding. Since when did he start to question other people’s intentions?

_Don’t trust anybody._

But he wanted to. He couldn’t understand why, but the stillness in the air offered warmth he somehow knew could only be possible with this boy’s company. He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want him to go.

_Should he?_

Gon breathed in, bracing himself to speak before thinking of what he was going to say. _Should he?_ “Why are you—” _No._ He stopped himself, scared of a negative reception that could feasibly be caused by his careless mind. He had to do it right the first time. It was a chance of a lifetime. “Sorry—”

“Stooop it,” the boy grumbled sternly, holding up a palm to Gon’s face before tucking it in his pocket. “Stop apologizing. You didn’t even do anything wrong.” He held on to the gaze for a few seconds— _four, five, six_ —stepped backwards and propped himself on a nearby pipe chase— _seven, eight_ —until his features softened and he let out a smile.

_A smile._

Gon had to look around to check if there was anyone near, anyone that could possibly be the recipient of that smile. He had to blink a few times before he could assent to the moment.

When was the last time someone made him feel like he was deserving of such greeting? Could his dad’s sardonic smirks count? No, he never felt like smiling back at those. For one thing, he felt like pointing a loaded gun to his head, bullets in another, an endless barrage. But this boy’s smile felt different. It made him think of the clear blue sky and dancing Hummingbirds, of full-bloomed irises and white roses in a summer garden. These, he thought and realized, these made him want to smile in return. So, he did, and it was easily followed by laughter, warm, joyous and sanguine.

When was the last time he laughed like this?

_Is this okay?_

“There,” the boy said in between his own sweet cackles, harmonizing with Gon’s in perfect tune. “That’s better.”

They kept it in sync for a while, filling the air with music, and suddenly, it was bright and void of gloom. It felt like magic, and Gon was enjoying the thrill as an audience. For once, he didn’t have to rethink about his position. For once, he didn’t have to follow the noises in his head. For once, he wanted to continue existing and be someone’s friend.

His heart pleaded despite his newfound paradise.

_Please._

“I have a feeling that you feel alone,” the boy began as he relaxed in his seat.

_Yes. So, please be…_

“And trust me, jumping off the rooftop is not a good solution.”

_Please let me be your…_

“Believe me, I’ve tried, and I’ve never felt so alone ever since.”

_Let me be your friend._

“So, if you’re feeling alone, just come up here. Or call my name, and I’ll come to you. I’m Killua.”

Gon’s eyes glittered at this discovery. “Killua,” he repeated as it multiplied inside his head. He would remember it every waking day and keep it in his heart forever. He would incessantly hold on to it if he couldn’t hold on to anything anymore. “I’m Gon.”

“Gon,” Killua echoed, along with an easy smile that made the wind waltz smoothly in the spaces between them. “Don’t disappear.”

**Author's Note:**

> I played around with symbolism on this one. Here are some Easter Eggs that I didn't mention at Tumblr:
> 
> Reread from the start but the italicized texts only. It summarizes Gon’s (someone with anxiety and trust issues) thought process during his time at the rooftop and encounter with Killua.
> 
> Symbolisms:
> 
> Eight – new beginning, being “born again”, resurrection, new life  
> Hummingbird – enjoyment of life, lightness of being  
> Iris – faith and hope  
> White rose – new beginning, everlasting love
> 
> Oh, and Killua is a spirit in this one, or an angel to Gon. (This is the major character death warning.)
> 
> Thank you for reading. Ily.


End file.
